


something's changed

by kontent



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Late Night Conversations, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 16:11:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20392483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kontent/pseuds/kontent
Summary: It’s been a month. A month since they closed the gate, a month since they fought against monsters. A month since he had last talked to Nancy.- Steve reflects on everything that has happened. [Set at the night of the Snow Ball, written before seeing Season 3.]





	something's changed

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended music to listen to _Touch_ by Shura.  
The title comes from that same song.

It’s been a month. A month since they closed the gate, a month since they fought against monsters. A month since he had last talked to Nancy. And he gets it, he does. Steve isn’t an idiot - he knows Nancy is with Jonathan now and he gets why she left him. He wasn’t there when she needed him, he was approaching the problem from the wrong angle. Steve is used to pushing problems away. He will ignore them until they either fade away or slap him in the face. Nancy isn’t like that. She wanted to confront things, she wanted to _ do _ something. And if it wasn’t so painful, Steve would laugh about the fact that of all people, Jonathan Byers is the one who can keep up with Nancy regarding that. But it still makes his heart break, so he doesn’t. He doesn’t try to talk to Nancy, because really, what is he going to say? _ I love you, still _ ? It might be true, but that isn’t the point. It’s not about what _ he _ feels. It’s not really important if he is hurting. Because he _ knows _ Nancy was hurting too and she still is, but Steve can’t help her. He can’t fix her. And he doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. 

Sometimes, at night mostly, he wishes he could be friends with her. But he doesn’t know how to do that either. Steve and Nancy were never friends and now – now they are nothing at all. Now he is sitting in the back of the class, thinking about monsters instead of school. Now he’s sitting at home, not knowing who to call – his friends are strangers to him and the only ones who would understand are either a couple who are probably having a date or a bunch of thirteen-year-olds who are obsessed with D&D. He likes those kids, but – they aren’t really friends of his. Steve protected them and they trusted him. Steve knows that should any of them call, he would grab his baseball bat in five seconds and risk his life to save their asses. But they aren’t friends. (And isn’t it kind of ironic how his signature weapon isn’t even one he build himself? He isn’t sure if Jonathan ever wants the bat back, but he sure as hell isn’t going to ask to give it back. It’s hidden underneath his bed, close enough to grab. In case.)

So, Steve isn’t really sure where the month went. He is sure he should do something, but his time has been spent in school, at home or hanging out with the kids occasionally, because why the hell not. They are nice, after all. Even if Eleven – Jane – still gives him the creeps when she looks at him with her clever eyes, eyes that have seen a lot more than a child her age should have. But who of them hasn’t? 

Sometimes he sees it. The way it has changed them. Steve can see it in the way Nancy holds her head up high, her back straight and her eyes awake. Or in the way Will sometimes says a name more than once as if he isn’t sure the other one will hear, and in the heartbreaking relief that ghosts over his face when the person listens to him. Steve can also see it in the dark shadows underneath his own eyes. Sometimes he sees it in Jonathan, too. When he’s leaning against the locker next to Nancy’s and he doesn’t think someone sees him, the tension in his shoulders melts a little and he holds himself the way Steve remembers from that night in the Byers home. Ready to take on whatever might be coming for him. It only reminds Steve of how not-ready he is. 

He isn’t ready for anything. He feels stuck in this state of being not quite here and he doesn’t know how to get out of it again. He’s lost somewhere between _ okay _ and _ not okay _, but he has forgotten how to speak. Steve sometimes thinks that maybe that was what Will felt like before the shadow monster and that makes him want to scream. 

He feels a little better when he is with Mike and Dustin and their bunch. They make him feel awake. So when Dustin asks him if he can drive him to the Snow Ball, Steve says yes. He even compliments him, trying to be a good babysitter (even if he knows he’s become more than just babysitter by now). Seeing Nancy through the windows twists the knife in his chest, ripping open the wound again. It’s not like it has full healed, yet. And for a second he wishes he could just go into the school, smile at her and hug her. But the bright smile isn’t directed at him and he doesn’t know if it ever will be again. He sighs and twists the key. He’ll stick to those moments – seeing Nancy in hallways, on the streets or next to Jonathan’s car. Driving off, Steve wonders for a second why he didn’t see Jonathan at the ball, but he is almost certain he was somewhere Steve couldn’t see him. The thought vanishes from his mind, when he thinks about what he is supposed to do now. He is going to pick up Dustin later, so he ends up at a diner nearby. And Steve wants to laugh, because he used to be here quite often, but back then he had friends and he did it because they couldn’t wait for the night to come and for things to happen. It felt like he was right where he was supposed to be. Now it feels like he is waiting for something, for anything really, to happen. 

He orders coffee to keep himself awake and ends up in a booth with a pen and some napkins. He doodles a little on them while waiting for his coffee to cool down, because it feels like he could burn a fricking demogorgon with it.

Steve is still stuck in his thoughts when someone approaches his desk. Looking up, he finds Chief Hopper looking at him, his face grumpy as always. But Steve has spent some time around this man and he knows that is not an angry face. It’s almost happy, like he still clings to a fond memory. Finding his voice, Steve nods at the man. “Chief, what are you doing here?” He sounds more tired than he thought he would. To pretend it didn’t happen, he lifts the mug to take a sip of his coffee but it’s still a little too hot and he ends up with a stinging tongue. It must have shown on his face, because Hopper huffs, but in good nature. He pretends it didn’t happen though and Steve is very glad about that. Sitting down on the other side of the booth, Hopper answers his question. “Brought my daughter to the school ball.” 

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up. “Your daughter? Jane?” He knows the chief wanted to take care of her, but he didn’t know that little detail. Which probably means it’s new or Hopper thought it not important. But judging from the way Hopper’s face looks with the word ‘daughter’ on his tongue, Steve is pretty sure, it’s the first option. Hopper looks… happy. Kind of. Steve has never really seen the man smile, so he’s going out on a limb here, but that facial expression there – definitely something close to happiness. He is so in thoughts that he almost misses the chief’s words that follow the nod approving of Steve’s words. “Why are you here, son?” 

It should be awkward, but the words easily fall from Steve’s lips. “I drove Dustin. He needed a ride.” The chief nods approvingly before ordering a coffee for himself. Steve doodles another weird shape onto a napkin before he asks. “Will things ever go back to normal?” His voice is weirdly calm, almost neutral. When Hopper doesn’t answer, he looks up to see the man shrug. “Depends.” 

Steve waits for him to say more, to say anything at all because that really wasn’t an answer, but Hopper doesn’t. Steve watches him pour sugar into his cup before he breaks. “Depends on what? What _ does _ it depend on?” Without noticing he has leaned forward a little, as if Hopper is going to tell him a secret. And who knows, maybe he is.

The chief sighs. “Look, kid… things won’t go back to the way they were. So, maybe. Maybe it’s gonna be normal again, but it’s never going to be the same.” Steve nods slowly, considering the words. It sounds true. Looking back at who he used to be he wants to flinch. He was such an _ asshole _. The guy he used to be, he would have fought for Nancy for the wrong reasons. But monsters and telekinetic girls make you consider your life choices, apparently. And maybe it’s not for the worst – the guy he turns out to be, he can let Nancy go for the right reasons. And yes, it drives a knife into his heart every time he sees her, but things have changed. Everything has changed and Steve has become someone that might not be an asshole after all. 

He looks up from his mug again, facing the chief. “Maybe you’re right.” It’s the closest thing to gratitude Steve can offer and from the way Hopper raises his coffee mug to – maybe – hide his smile, Steve knows he gets it.

“Of course I am.” It makes Steve crack a smile to hear the dry, sarcastic voice he got used to. Hopper throws a glance at the clock and sighs. “Listen up, kid. I’m on patrol, but I should be back before the ball ends. If I’m not, keep an eye on her, would you?” Steve finds himself nodding before the question even ends. It’s not a real question to him either. Hopper could have asked Steve if he would stand between Jane and a gun and the answer would have been the same. It’s a little terrifying to think about, but that’s the guy he’s becoming. And he likes it better than the other guy.

Hopper gives a short nod in thanks and downs the rest of his coffee. “See you later, kid.” With a pat on Steve’s shoulder he gets up from his side of the booth and heads for the door. Seeing him glancing back, Steve gives a mock salute. He’s pretty sure he can see the chief’s mouth twitch in a smile, but it might be the lighting.


End file.
